Dark Days
by Mistress Arion
Summary: This story is a prequel to Telanu's wonderful


Dark Days  
*******************  
  
  
Elrond stood at the window, staring wordlessly into the night. He did not turn as the door to his chamber opened.  
  
"We leave on the morrow," A deep voice spoke behind him as the door swung closed.  
  
"You will perish in the attempt," Elrond said, "He cannot be destroyed." He did not turn as the familiar footsteps approached.  
  
Aragorn joined the taller figure at the casement.  
  
The elf-lord stood tall and proud as ever, yet the strain of the latter days was written deep upon his face. Dark were the shadows beneath his now stark cheekbones, and the line of his lips was tight and cold.  
  
"Will you not look at me?" Aragorn said quietly.  
  
Elrond turned slightly, and glanced at the man before turning back to the moonless night. "I smell the stink of approaching doom with every breath you take," he said. "Would you have me look on you, to see the death mask grinning beneath your skin?"  
  
Aragorn winced, but said in a steady voice, "He must be stopped. As we speak He prepares his troops to reave a wide swath across Middle Earth, destroying all that He sees. His sight is clear, and His arm long. What will you do when it reaches even here?"  
  
  
Elrond spun abruptly, and Aragorn stepped back a quick pace in sudden fear as the elf-lord's unmasked power filled the room with a surge of blue-grey light.  
  
"You would chide me, Dunedain, Me?" the elf spat. "I, who with Galadrial and Celeborn, hold the Three safe from his eyes? I, who in less than a fortnight have seen the elves fall before him like petals in a hurricane- the deathless dying, one after another, hunted and butchered like animals for his pleasure. I, who once trusted him above all others. You would presume to chide me?"  
  
Elrond shook with barely contained rage as he continued, "You, who live but a brief span, do you know what he has done to us, to my people?" He grasped the man's shoulder as he rasped out, "I have seen the slaughter, Aragorn. Ten days ago, in Lothlorien, I waded in elven blood to my ankles, screaming for survivors who did not exist. I saw the heads of my children, hanging from the trees..." His voice broke and he could not go on.  
  
Aragorn bowed his head as the elf wept. It had been Elrond who arrived first after receiving word of Ganda...the Dark Lord's, treacherous attack on the Golden Wood. Elrond who stood with Galadriel and Celeborn as the heads of Elladan, Elrohir, and Arwen were taken from their crude resting place. Elrond, who had not believed the rumors of Gandalf's growing use of the One Ring.  
  
"He will pay," Aragorn said.  
  
"He will not pay," Elrond said bitterly, "I have seen the future and he will destroy us all. Even the Three together are no match for the One Ring." The power surrounding the elf flickered and died, leaving the room once again lit only by a faltering lamp of oil.  
  
"She loved you, Aragorn," the grieving elf said softly.  
  
Surprised at this apparent change of course, Aragorn said nothing.  
  
"She loved you, and you did not love her."  
  
"I loved your daughter more than I have loved any woman in Middle Earth," Aragorn said, "and I mourn her passing with a heart that has been shattered."  
  
"She went to Galadriel, escorted by her brothers, to ask of her why she did not hold that shattered heart," Elrond said, "And so they perished all together." He spoke the words in a desperate voice, one step removed from drowning madness.  
  
Aragorn shut his eyes as the world spun beneath him.  
  
"She told me naught of this," he whispered, "Only that she wished to visit friends who abided there."  
  
"Yet you must not bear this weight alone," Elrond said, "for I too could have answered her foolish question."  
  
Iron bands wrapped his chest, and the chamber seemed without air. Aragorn staggered to the low couch and sat heavily. A moment later Elrond sat beside him.  
  
"She did not need Galadriel to tell her who came first to your bed," Elrond continued remorselessly, "and who grieved your loss even as he joyed for her marriage."  
  
"Please, I beg you, no more of this..." Aragorn said softly.  
  
"But the King must take a maid to wife," Elrond said, heedless of the quiet plea, "and so I sent my lover to my daughter's bed."  
  
"And I in turn went from your bed to hers, never returning for stolen caresses or whispered words. I have upheld my bond, tell me that she died unknowing," Aragorn begged, "that Galadrial did not..."  
  
"The Lady Galadriel is wise beyond time," Elrond said, "She would not harm one such as Arwen with knowledge best untold." Aragorn sagged in relief, his strength running away like water.  
  
"The Lady herself told me of Arwen's question, and then only to save herself from my insane wrath as I stood before the carnage," Elrond said, weeping. "Never before had she feared another of her own people, but I could not accept that she and Celeborn alone had survived that dreadful day."  
  
"The bastard drew them out, it was not a treachery of her own doing" Aragorn said bitterly, "We know that now. He called them both together to a council which did not exist, so that they might be away when Lothlorien was attacked. Foul as he has become, he can not yet bring himself to destroy Galadriel."  
  
Aragorn felt the elf's long arms draw about his shoulders, and he leaned into the unexpected, familiar embrace. Tears unshed glimmered beneath his dark lashes.  
  
"I would not see her death, and yet I cannot rejoice in his compassion. In such a short span," Elrond said quietly, desperately, "I have seen the death of all I held dear, and now, at last, you too must go."  
  
Aragorn began to reply, and was silenced by a slender elven hand pressed lightly against his lips.  
  
"I hated you, there, under the burning trees of the Golden Wood," Elrond said, "and I blamed you for her death."  
  
"Do you hate me now?" Aragorn asked. He felt crushed beneath the weight of a world gone mad.  
  
"You are all that remains of what I was," Elrond said. He pressed his forehead against the man's hair briefly, then bowed his head. "And I am weak, and frightened. I cannot hate what I longed for so deeply."  
  
Aragorn cradled the other's face in his large scarred hands. "I would bring you what comfort I can," he said, "though it may be very little indeed."  
  
"There is no comfort to be found," Elrond said. His eyes were dark, and his face lined with care, "But she is gone, and it matters no more. I would take back what was once mine, if only for a day."  
  
"You have always been my melyanna, beloved gift," Aragorn said, gently stroking the elf lord's face and hair. "Hate me as a father, for my cold heart which drove your daughter to despair but love me as a man, as it was your face which drove all others from my heart."  
  
"May Arwen forgive me, I must know," the elf whispered, "have you truly never loved another?"  
  
Aragorn nodded slowly. "I would have stood to her until the end of my days, but it was always your face before me in my mind." He slid his hands to the slender lord's shoulders and allowed his fingers to trail along the fabric of the thin robe. Elrond shivered.  
  
"I thought never to feel your touch again," the elf whispered.  
  
  
"Nor I you," Aragorn said, "Pour the wine, my lord, and let tonight give us both what comfort it may."  
  
Elrond smiled in his grief, "I will bring the flagon, your Majesty, come away to bed." He rose, and gathered from the table a wineskin and cups of silver.  
  
Aragorn followed the elf to the room's inner chamber. He took the offered cup, and drank deeply of the strong red wine of Dale. Uncertainly they stood for many minutes, talking carefully of this and that. At last Elrond set aside his cup, and stood before the toil-worn man.  
  
"I have loved you, and hated you, and loved you again," he said, "and we have not the time to woo as if we'd never met. Will you join me, Aragorn, son of Arathorn?" He gestured to the carven bed.  
  
Aragorn placed his hands on the elf-lord's narrow waist, and leaned forward until their breaths were mingled. Deliberately he licked the sheen of wine from the other's reddened lips.  
  
Elrond sighed deeply and whispered, "For tonight my love let there be no war, no ring, no future filled with blood."  
  
Aragorn smiled, "There is only you, and I. Let our talk be of happier days." The elf moved gently from the embrace, and pulled back the quilted silken comforter.  
  
"Do you remember when first we met?" Elrond asked, as he sat on the bed and removed his mantle.  
  
"How could I forget?" Aragorn said. He pulled his tunic over his head and let it fall to the floor, "I feared I would not survive the day."  
  
Elrond breathed deeply as the man kicked away his trousers and settled into the bed beside him.  
  
"You were so young my love," Elrond said, stroking the Dunedain's now grey-streaked hair.  
  
"And you were so merciless," Aragorn laughed, "Ei, my face felt on fire from blushing." He enfolded the elf in his strong arms.  
  
Elrond rubbed against him like a cat, savoring the touch he had so long been denied.  
  
"You came with the Men of the North," he murmured, "so that I might meet at last Isildur's heir."  
  
"But you were at work in the House of Healing when we arrived," Aragorn said, moving his hands across the other's back in great slow sweeps, "and I first saw you at dinner."  
  
Aragorn closed his eyes and savored the memory.  
  
"I had never before seen an elf," he said, "not up close. My head was already swimming from the beauty of your people."  
  
Elrond ran his tongue lightly across the man's ear. "You entered the dining hall and stopped as if you had been struck," he whispered, "I thought you would fall to the floor when you saw you were to be seated at my right hand."  
  
"I cannot describe my feelings when first we met," Aragorn agreed. He paused, and brushed his lips agross the elf-lord's throat. "I only know that my heart seemed caught against my teeth, and I could not remember how to breathe."  
  
Elrond moaned softly as Aragorn sucked more roughly at his neck, and his hands tightened in the man's hair. A sudden thought struck him, and he lifted his head and smiled mischeiviously, "Do you remember the bread?"  
  
Aragorn fell back against the pillows, consumed with laughter. "You asked me for the loaf several times I believe."  
  
"Four times," Elrond gently corrected, "I found it hard to believe you did not hear me, you stared so intently at my face."  
  
"And when Glorfindel nudged me at last, and I realized what I had done, I...I..." Red-faced and howling with mirth, the man could not go on.  
  
"You tried to hand me trencher-board and all, and when my fingers brushed yours, you threw it into my lap," Elrond continued with a grin.  
  
Aragorn calmed at last, and traced the elf's hip lovingly with one finger, "You were so beautiful in your robes of blue and silver, and when you smiled at me my heart was lost."  
  
"And later that night, as I walked alone in the moonlight, you followed me," Elrond said, "Did you even know what it was you sought?" He rolled slightly to allow the man greater access to stroke his legs and buttocks.  
  
"I only knew that I sought you," Aragorn said. He began to rub small circles on the elf's naked calves, his excitement growing with Elrond's every hiss of pleasure. "You stepped from the trees with the moon in your hair, and I came to you when you beckoned."  
  
"You trembled as I took you," Elrond said gently.  
  
"I had never known a man," Aragorn reminded him, "nor shared my body in that way." Unable to wait any longer, he pulled the elf to him and claimed his lips hungrily, drinking deep of the smell and taste of the other's mouth.  
  
"Share with me now my love," Elrond breathed hungrily. With a twist, the elf pulled himself atop the man, pressing their bodies together and capturing the man's leg between his own.  
  
"Beloved," Aragorn groaned as Elrond began to move against his thigh. With each movement he felt his erection slide deliciously along the elf's smooth stomach. His spine arched with pleasure as delicate long-fingered hands clawed along his back and buttocks.   
  
"Do not torment me my love," the man hissed, "it has been so long."  
  
Elrond slid between the Ranger's legs, stroking and caressing him with fingers and tongue.  
  
"I need no other preparation," Aragorn moaned, "please..."  
  
With a thrust the elf entered him, shuddering at the incredible warmth and pressure.  
  
"Do not spare me," Aragorn said, "I would feel you with me even as I ride forth..."  
  
"Say it naught," Elrond said, pressing his hand against the man's lips. He increased the speed and depth of his thrusts to a punishing level, slamming the man's hips forcefully against the bed.  
  
"Harder," Aragorn moaned, "harder my love."  
  
The elf complied, scalding tears flowing silently from his grey eyes as he did. He threw back his head and screamed as he erupted deep inside the writhing man.  
  
"Do not cry my love," Aragorn said as Elrond withdrew and lay against his chest. "This bitter gift will comfort my heart in the days ahead."  
  
Elrond ran his fingers lightly across the man's cheek, "There are softer gifts I now would give."  
  
Aragorn pulled the coverlet close about their sweat damp bodies. "Those too will I take with joy."  
**********************  
  
  
Elrond awoke to the sound of birds. He knew without looking that Aragorn had gone. He dressed slowly, passing his hands across the love marks which dappled his body. Now he would wait, complete, for the darkness which would come.  
  
  
  
Finis  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
